


I will not be your sometimes

by dogmouth



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Related, Cardverse, M/M, Reincarnation, Soulmates, several alternative universes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 12:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4835009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogmouth/pseuds/dogmouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate/Reincarnation AU. They don’t speak a word, only touching with their fingertips and tasting with their lips, and Spain is radiating devotion and Romano takes it all greedily, trying to give off a fraction what Spain gives so easily. And he thinks that he can never stop coming home to Spain, as much as he tries to hide away from everything, that the two of them will connect like this, over and over and over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I will not be your sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a fic documenting the many times Lovino Vargas and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo cross paths, always finding one another in some kind of way. Or, just a self indulgent idea about two people who will always be destined for one another.

They argue about the guest list for weeks. Lovino wants something small and intimate, but Antonio makes that difficult. He’s already had friends Lovino hasn’t even heard of texting him about a spot in the reception hall and that idea leaves him stressed and irritated. Antonio tells him he wants as many people as possible to sit and watch their love and Lovino doesn’t know if he can deal with that many sets of eyes on him while he’s so vulnerable.

Antonio is the first to cave, like he always is, and Lovino feels a mix of relief and guilt. He tries to explain to Antonio why he’s so nervous late one night when he stutters against the curve of Antonio’s back, but Antonio just turns around and mumbles sweet words of understand into his hair.

The next day, they decide on a fixed number of family and close friends. It’s still more than Lovino feels comfortable with, but he bites his tongue because the excited gleam in those pigment green eyes while Antonio gushes over the dinner table dioramas their wedding planner Matthew gave them makes Lovino feel like he’s falling in love all over again and he can’t bear to ruin the fun.

When the day finally arrives and they find themselves standing in front of rows faces, Antonio speaks his wedding vows. They’re as sentimental and melodramatic as everyone expected, but Lovino tastes blood in his mouth as he tries to fight against the sob lodged in his throat when he stares as Antonio’s beaming face. He hears the, “I would say I’m ready to build a home with you starting today, but we’ve been doing that already since the first moment I saw you,” and, “I’ve already given you my heart, my everything, but, Lovino, I am prepared to give you so much more,” and Lovino can’t believe what he’s done to deserve this. When it’s his turn, he stumbles over the words that won’t make it paste his too tight throat. Lovino can’t say everything he wants to, not in front of so many people, but his words still bring tears to Antonio’s eyes and he makes everyone laugh when he can’t help but pause the ceremony in order to bring Lovino into a hug.

It’s late into the night, after Feliciano finishes his lovely speech that makes the whole reception hall cheer, when they have their first dance. Gilbert lets out a catcall, Alfred cheers drunkenly, and suddenly it feels like just the two of them under the spotlight.

Antonio just thinks that Lovino is trying to hide when he presses his face against his neck, but his breath catches when he feels lips at his ear and begins to hear shy, tentative words.

“Whenever I met someone, they always see the worst of me. Just like I see myself. But what I met you, you saw the best in me when I had already given up hope…”

Everyone looks away knowingly when the pair stops moving and Antonio meets Lovino’s lips with his.

.

The roar of the stadium makes his head ring but Lovino yells right back. His hands are shaking but he knows no one can see the slight tremor in the poster he’s holding, but he figures it’s just the adrenaline mixed with his rage causing that. There are people pressed on either side of him and they’re shoulders clash, but for once Lovino doesn’t mind the contact. Everyone in their little group is here for the same reason, enduring the same venomous looks the overwhelming majority of stadium keeps throwing them. Lovino glares right back, spits at the floor, and turns his face back to the disgusting spectacle before him.

In the center of the ring stands the matador, gold embezzled outfit making him look like the sun that’s now fading past the horizon. Lovino remembers his name: Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. He’s young, passionate, and creates such a spectacle that leaves the city talking for weeks. Lovino thinks what he does is disgusting, and starts to yell louder, waving his poster in the air so furiously that people probably couldn’t read it even if they cared. He knows no one is listening to the small group of protestors, but this makes Lovino feel like he’s making a difference. On one end of the ring the bull lets out a bellow, shaking his head which causes the spears already lodged into his spine to move. The animal cries out, different than the sound before, so full of pain that it makes Lovino’s stomach twist painfully. Antonio lifts the spear he holds in his grip high and flourishes his red cape, edging the creature on. Lovino swears at him as the bull charges, feels tears sting at his eyes and he hates everything this disgusting sport stands for, what Antonio is doing, and briefly pictures an ending where the bull rips open Antonio’s side and spills his blood on the dirt.

In a blink, everything changes. As the bull nears, Lovino can see a flash of something spasm over Antonio’s face and suddenly the stadium is eerily quiet. Antonio drops the spear, drops the cape, and drops his body to the floor. His shoulders are shaking and in his shock, Lovino realizes with a delay that the man is sobbing. The sound is so broken and it’s coming from deep within and it echoes in the silence. The bull slows when it gets closer to Antonio’s wrecked form before stopping in front of him and it stills. The crowd waits on baited breath, and Lovino’s mouth is hanging open.

And then the bull cries out to Antonio and it sounds like it’s weeping, too. Lovino watches as Antonio’s head snaps up, hands frozen in front of his face, and the two just stare at one another. At this point, the crowd snaps out of its transfixion and begins booing, yelling out in anger. Antonio doesn’t react to any of it and he doesn’t tear his gaze from the bull in front of him.

Lovino feels something break inside of him and feels his breath come quicker, overwhelmed by the scene before him. He turns from the sight and runs.

.

“You’re so beautiful, Lovino.”

Lovino scoffs and tries to ignore the Sun God next to him. His hands are full of stars and he tries to concentrate on the constellation he’s putting together, but Antonio doesn’t stop looking at him. The space between them is bleeding colors, a gradient of yellow to orange, to purple, to dark blue. There’s heat emitting in waves off of Antonio’s skin and yet Lovino can’t help but shiver at how close the two of them are. The stars falling between his fingers jostle at the movement.  

“What are you going to make?” Antonio asks, and the Moon God shrugs his shoulders. He can’t quite meet Antonio’s blazing gaze so Lovino focuses on picking out just the right star for the next piece.

“I’m not sure yet,” he admits absently, picking up a star with two fingers and holding it in front of Antonio’s face. The radiant light that constantly surrounds Antonio is broken by the sharp outlines and Lovino squints involuntarily at the brightness. Antonio smiles, laughs, and the stars around him glow, soaking up his natural daylight.

“I can’t wait to see it when it’s done. Will you have another story along with it?” Lovino nods, deciding the star is good enough and places it in the sky where it sticks in place with his deliberate fingers.

“I think,” Lovino starts, stops in order to look away. The Sun God leans forward expectantly but for once he doesn’t say anything as The Moon God finds his words. The other Gods and Goddess think Lovino is frigid and reclusive, preferring to stay in the cold atmosphere rather than spend time socializing but Antonio thinks they’re all wrong; so deceptively wrong, and too indifferent enough to learn better. Lovino is as complex as the ever changing as the night sky he protects, as beautiful as the fields below bathed in moonlight, and as breathtaking as the stars he shapes. “I think,” he tries again, this time taking a deep breath before meeting Antonio’s gaze, “I’ll make it a constellation about you, and your fierce hunters. That way people will remember the story for millenniums.”

.

“Antonio, what the hell is your problem? Focus on the game!”

Breath ragged, Antonio nods wordlessly and wipes the sweat from his brow. They’re losing by two goals and on the sidelines his couch is yelling offended words that turn to a buzz when they reach his ears. He registers that Gilbert is still complaining at his side when Francis jogs up, equally as frustrated as Gilbert looks and Antonio can’t blame them. He knows he’s been playing like shit; he’s been letting the ball slip, following the wrong player, and missing opportune passes. This should have been an easy win since the opponents were nothing compared to their team's skill, but here they were. And it was all Antonio’s fault.

Yet he couldn’t help but laugh, throwing his head back and looping an arm around Gilbert’s shoulders. Francis raised an eyebrow at the spectacle and Gilbert cursed under his breath as he shoved Antonio away.

“Toni, what the fuck?”

“Sorry, amigos, I’ll get focused for sure,” he tries to reassure and can’t help the grin that’s plastered on his face despite the tense atmosphere. “Guess I’m just a little extra spacey today.”

“We hadn’t noticed. Please do try to regain some composure before Coach pulls you out, and we can’t really afford that.” Francis eyes him once before turning away, motioning with his head for Gilbert to follow. Antonio watches them go and tries to find the ball on the field, but soon his attention is completely elsewhere, away from the game again.

Across the field there’s another soccer match going on. Antonio thinks it’s probably for another tournament bracket since he doesn’t recognize any of the team colors. It’s a tie game and people are getting rowdy, but Antonio can’t tear his gaze from one player in particular. He plays like nothing Antonio has seen; even from here he can see the look of concentration on the player's face, following the ball with eyes that leave Antonio breathless. His hair reminds him of old, wise oak trees and in the sun, he looks like he stepped out of the stained glass windows Antonio remembers seeing in church as a child. He almost looks like a predator, stalking the ball with such precision and he always manages to startle his opponents when he kicks it out from beneath their feet.

Antonio thinks he can watch him play for hours, and wonders how he hadn’t noticed the other player until this moment. There’s a sharp smack at his arm and Antonio blinks back into reality, noticing he’d completely stopped moving.

Gilbert hisses as he runs past. “Fuck you, Toni, we’re losing! C’mon!”

Antonio can’t help but giggle, watching the interesting, beautiful player with the number 4 on his back for a moment longer before running after Gilbert, feeling light.

.

Lovino finds it hard to remember a life before the war. Out here, in the mud and soaked in so much rain his teeth chatter together painfully, Lovino just feels tired. He’s tired of the harsh orders his commanders give him, tired of reloading his gun and pulling the trigger over and over again. Tired of surviving another battle and counting the faces of people he’d seen alive only hours before, now bled out and riddled with bullet holes. He can’t remember what he’s supposed to be fighting for. His country? He couldn’t give a damn about it now, not anymore. Lovino can’t even rationalize with himself that it’s for his family because he doesn’t even know if his brother is alive anymore. Feliciano- pure, sweet Feliciano- had been forced to join as well and it’d broken their grandfather’s heart to see his only family shipped off to fight for a broken government.

A gunshot goes off to his right and Lovino can only hear ringing. He aims his rifle mindlessly forward and shots at the first thing he sees move. The shape falls to the floor and Lovino resists the urge to vomit. He’s so, so tired.

There’s a shape in front of him, too close too quickly, and Lovino raises his gun but his finger falters on the trigger. Standing in front of him is an enemy and he’s got the greenest eyes Lovino has ever seen. His hair is a rich brown, as rich as the earth at their feet, and his tanned skin is smeared with blood and dirt. He also has his gun raised but he hasn’t fired, and he stares intently at Lovino. He sees a similar look in those vibrant eyes; this man is also tired and lost. Lovino thinks of running in the tomato fields behind his grandfather’s house, crying out in glee with Feliciano’s hand grasped in his as Grandpa Roma chases them. Lovino thinks he can watch a similar memory play behind this strangers eyes, and he finds himself lowering his gun a fraction.

“Get the fuck away.” He jerks his head, motioning behind him, and the bastard in front of him actually grins. In this world that feels like hell, that smile is the greatest thing Lovino has seen in years. And then he’s gone, and Lovino marches forward.

.

Lovino grabs Antonio forcibly by the elbow and grits through his teeth, “Antonio, can you fucking listen to me?” The Knight finally stops his strides and turns, giving Lovino a confused look. They’re alone in the vast, desolate corridor, the deep red walls throwing sharp shadows on the floor as the sun sets beyond the windows. Lovino lowers his voice when he hears his own echo, neck growing hot. “Stop rushing off and let me speak.”

Antonio smiles, easy despite the news the pair and learned not but an hour ago. “I’m sorry, Lovino, I didn’t realize you felt so seriously. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want you to go this time.” The words are out before he can stop them and Lovino swallows, trying his hardest not to look away in humiliation when Antonio’s smile falls. There’s a hand on his shoulder, the pressure heavy and so reassuring that Lovino tries not to fall forward into Antonio’s chest. “Just. Stay. Guard the castle, something.”

“Oh, Lovino,” Antonio starts but this time Lovino doesn’t quiet his tone when he shouts.

“No, don’t use that tone with me, do not fucking look at me like that. I’m fucking sorry but I mean it this time.”

Antonio sighs and slides his hand along Lovino’s red dyed robs, running his fingers up his neck in order to cup his cheek. Lovino bites his tongue and blinks his eyes rapidly. “Lovino, I wish I could, mi corazon, but I’m a knight to the Kingdom of Hearts. King Ludwig has called on me and I can’t say no.” Lovino knows this knows all of it and what Antonio can and cannot do for him, but he doesn’t want to hear it this time. “I’ll only be gone for a few months, but that’s not something we haven’t dealt with before.”

“But,” Lovino tries and he’s overwhelmed with the urge to smack the sword at Antonio’s hip to the floor, “I’ve got a back feeling, okay? I know that doesn’t make any fucking sense but you can’t go, Antonio.”

Antonio tries to smile again and it’s an attempt at reassurance. “King Ivan causes border skirmishes all the time, this is expected. His army has been weak for years. Do you not trust me strength, Lovino?” His voice is teasing and for a moment, Lovino’s worries melt away as he fights against a smile.

“Don’t be so full of yourself.” Lovino shakes his head, reaches out and grabs Antonio by the collar. “Stop joking.” He opens his mouth to plead again but he can’t form any words and silence falls between them. Antonio is looking at him as patient as ever and Lovino wants to pull him closer and never let him go. He’d seen the look on Feliciano’s face when he’d brought the news to King Ludwig. It was different this time and Lovino couldn’t do anything to keep Antonio safe.

“Lovino.” Antonio has reached out to cup the other side of Lovino’s face. “Once, I wanted to be a knight just to serve this kingdom. But now, I do it to protect you. And whatever happens, I will always find my way back to you." All Lovino can do is nod, his vision quickly blurring and the fear gripping his heart lessening. Antonio was looking at him so open and honest and loving, so sure of his own words. Unable to hold himself back, Lovino falls forward into Antonio’s chest, letting out a sigh.

“You better come back, you bastard.”

.

The sky has opened up unexpectedly and Antonio runs into the first store he sees. He manages to slip inside right as the downpour starts, managing to walk away with only sprinkled shoulders. He stares out the window, getting lost in the motion of the rain before he sees where he’s ended up. It’s a small café, once he’s never noticed before and thinks his luck is turning around when the aroma of coffee hits his senses. He smiles, brushing his damp hair from his face and goes up to order. A cheerful young man greets him, his amber eyes inviting, and Antonio thinks he’s definitely come to the right place.

“Ciao, welcome! Do you know what you’d like?” His apron is stained with smeared coffee beans and bright icing.

Antonio decides on a whim, “No, I don’t, but give me your favorite thing on the menu. I’m sure you won’t disappoint.” The barista lets out a light laugh and winks, punching some buttons on the cash register.

“House Special, coming right up. Just give me a moment.” Antonio leans against the counter and looks around absently as the man works. He moves toward the back of the store and opens a curtain and the movement catches Antonio’s eye.

As the fabric shifts, Antonio glimpses another young man sitting in a cheap folding chair. He’s got headphones it that stands out against his olive skin, and he’s bent forward, staring intently at a sketchbook. Held between his lips is a pencil and his eyebrows are furrowed together.

Just as soon as Antonio sees him, the barista comes back out and closes the drape, blocking Antonio’s view.

“Here you go, sir, and look! The rain has stopped, how wonderful!” He lets out a laugh and Antonio turns to see that the sky is a soft blue once again. There’s an odd feeling in his chest and Antonio takes his cup, mumbling a thanks before he leaves.

.

If he’s delayed any more during this day, Lovino is going to scream. He grumbles against the lid of his coffee cup, tapping his foot in irritation as he glares at the DO NOT WALK sign keeping him at bay. There aren’t any cars on the street yet the light stays green and Lovino closes his eyes, willing himself to count backwards from ten until he stops seeing red.

A blaring ring interrupts his thoughts and Lovino digs into his pocket bitterly, answering the call with a pointed, “What?”

“Oh, Lovino, I was afraid you wouldn’t answer! Are you on your way? The meeting is going to start soon and I’m doing my best to postpone everyone but you know how Arthur gets when we’re not on time-“

“Yes, Feli, I’m on my way, Jesus,” he interrupts, checking the walk signal again. Still a no. “I’m almost to the office, tell Arthur if he has a problem he can complain about it later, it’s been a long morning.” He looks both ways down the street and when he still doesn’t see a car in sight, he surges forward.

“I’ll try to let him know- oh, he’s pointing at his wrist now and marching over, I think he wants to talk to you.”

Lovino growled low in his throat, taking another sip of coffee and it burns his tongue. “Not now, seriously, Feliciano, don’t give him the phone-“

There’s a horn and the screech of breaks and Lovino doesn’t register the impact until he’s moving. His body is rolling over something hard and his phone is no longer in his hand. He feels the liquid of his coffee on his chest but doesn’t feel the searing heat like he’s supposed to. For a moment, he’s in the air, and Lovino thinks the sensation is odd. The street shatters his thoughts harshly and tries to take a breath, but the sound he hears is strangled and foreign.

“Oh Dios, fuck, I’m so sorry, please be alive!” Lovino tries to turn his head to the voice but finds that he can’t move his neck. He opens his mouth to respond but he coughs instead and feels the slick slide of blood down his chin. “Can you hear me?” The voice drops to his side and large hands roam over his face. Lovino sighs at the warm contact but tries his best to glare. It looks much closer to a pained grimace.

“What the fuck-“ Lovino coughs again and decides talking is too much effort. The stranger, outlined by the sunlight, lets out a breath of relief at Lovino’s pained words.

“I’m calling an ambulance right now, okay? So you need to stay with me? I’m so sorry, I’ll make this right, I’m right here…” The stranger is babbling, talking nonsense but Lovino finds the rhythm of his words soothing. There’s stinging pain running along his body like a current and Lovino lifts a hand toward the man. He looks at his fingers stained with vibrant red and can’t believe that’s what his blood looks like. The men immediately grasps his hand and begins to talk quickly again, his panic making his accent thick.

“That’s right, I’m not going anywhere until you’re safe so you have to keep your eyes open for now. My name is Antonio, can you hear me? What’s your name, can you tell me?”

Lovino tries to nod. “Lovino. Asshole.” Antonio actually laughs, high pitched and frantic.

“You can call me whatever you’d like Lovino as long as you stay awake.”

.

Unsurprisingly, the conference drags for an additional few hours and Romano is the first to rush out of the door when Germany calls the meeting to an exhausting end. His back aches, his head is pounding, and Romano pulls out his cell phone as soon as he’s in the sanctity of his car.

Spain picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”

“I didn’t think you’d still be awake,” Romano mumbles, glancing at the neon numbers on his dashboard. The green makes his eyes hurt so he looks away, starting the ignition. Spain lets out a quiet laugh on the other end, the sound slightly fuzzy from the distance of the call.

“You know I like the night, Roma. It’s always the most peaceful.” He hears rustling as Spain moves around. “Is the meeting over?”

Hearing those words, Romano is very aware of how tired he is. He’s not in the mood to be complicated tonight. “Can I come over?”

The silence is enough to let Romano now of Spain’s surprise at his bluntness. Finally, he says softly, “You’re always welcome here, Romano. The drive won’t be too long?”

Romano grunts as he pulls out of parking spot, nestling the phone between his ear and shoulder. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you in a few hours.” He hangs up without waiting for Spain to respond. When he hits the highway he rolls down his window and lets the cool night air rouse him back into alertness. It doesn’t take long for him to begin questioning his decision but Romano grips the steering wheel just a bit tighter and presses on the gas with more pressure than necessary. The roads are empty and he feels unlike himself, and although he doesn’t want to admit it, there’s only one person who can make him feel okay again.

When Romano crosses the border, he knows Spain feels it. He keeps the radio off in favor of letting his sore head have a moment of rest and follows the streets he shouldn’t be this familiar with, the ones that’ll take him to Spain. As he pulls into the driveway, Spain is standing on his front steps, leaning comfortably against the doorframe. He’s not wearing shoes or a shirt and Romano swallows when he exits his car, the subtle thumb breaking the tranquil night air.

Spain’s face is all tenderness as Romano takes his time walking over to him. “Hello, Lovino.” The use of his human name makes Romano’s heart speed up and he gives a weak glare. “Was the drive okay?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, sliding past Spain and throwing his briefcase to the ground. His hands are already pawing at his tie impatiently, suddenly feeling too constrained. As always, Spain picks up on his agitation, walking out from behind him and helping his restless fingers.

“How was the meeting?” he asks, but the look on his face shows that Romano doesn’t really need to give an answer. The fact that he’s here is enough.

Romano decides he doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to talk about the stress, doesn’t want to discuss how Spain’s absence was enough to make him feel like shit, doesn’t want to remember the loneliness he felt sitting at the far end of the table. When his tie is free Romano swats Spain’s hands away so he can lean forward and lays his forehead against his bare chest. He breathes in deep, the scent of Spain overwhelming; he smells like dirt and sweat, with hints of lavender and tomato. He must have spent his free time in the garden while Romano was cooped up in the stale boardroom. Strong arms wrap around his stiff shoulders and Spain kisses the shell of his ear.

“Let’s go to bed, Lovi.” He doesn’t protest the idea and even let’s Spain take his hand to guide him toward the bedroom, abandoning his usual reputation of disobedience. The moonlight is enough to illuminate Spain’s bedroom a delicate blue, and Romano thinks absently as he kicks off his shoes and throws off his blazer that enough of his things are here in order to deem it their bedroom. Spain is silent as he unbuttons Romano’s shift, equally uncharacteristic, but he’s still wearing his perpetual smile and his green eyes flash whenever their gazes meet. “I like it when you’re here. You make this place feel more like home.” 

Romano feels his ears go hot and he looks away, unable to stay composed under Spain’s unabashedly affectionate look. He wishes he could say he feels the same, but he’s never able to express himself like Spain can, so he does the only thing he knows; he takes Spain’s hand in his and guides him this time into bed. Under the covers, tucked away from the weight of the day, he curls against Spain’s body and lets himself become undone. They don’t speak a word, only touching with their fingertips and tasting with their lips, and Spain is radiating devotion and Romano takes it all greedily, trying to give off a fraction what Spain gives so easily. And he thinks that he can never stop coming home to Spain, as much as he tries to hide away from everything, that the two of them will connect like this, over and over and over.


End file.
